a man walks down the street

& doesn’t move

a woman walks down the street

& cries out

a hole walks down the sun

& blisters

a thing burrows deep in it

& still she shouts

why is the world so loud

that its silence is the crickets and hermits and

leather shoes

why does the tree where there is

no shade

dance in her scream

& the orange machine

of her hands tremble

a sun works down its heat

an earth workss down its layers

a feminine must

revolve around


a feminine and maroon an onyx leather a tug of streetwalkers

must revolve around

a feminine

a street repeats itself

& doesn’t move